He doesn't want to be closed in there with her. "It's okay, it's not that bad." It already feels swollen.

She insists. "You're bleeding, Jim. Come on."

He follows and the awkward silence behind him slowly winds back up to game noise. The ball bouncing off the concrete floor, the squeak of too-new sneakers.

She holds the door for him, then follows him inside. She turns on the cold tap. "Rinse off a bit so I can see how bad it is."

There's more blood than he thought. The drops hit the white porcelain and bloom immediately into something less vivid. He rinses his mouth, then runs his tongue over the spot inside where lip met teeth. He winces and tastes blood again.

She steps close and says quietly, "Let me see."

He leans down for her and watches in the mirror as her small, cool fingers test his outer lip for swelling. Then she delicately pulls his lip down to find the cut. Blood gathers under her neatly trimmed nails. He can taste her hand lotion. Without thinking, he says, "I'm surprised you aren't wearing gloves."

She looks up at him, her fingertips still on his lip. "Should I?"

He shrugs. "It's up to you, I guess. But I think I'm probably safe."

She looks at him steadily. "I think you probably are, too." She looks back down to his lip and frowns. "It's pretty deep, but cuts in the mouth heal quickly. They're more annoying than anything else."

She turns to rinse her hands, then opens the first aid kit. As she searches for something, she makes small tsk noises. What she's looking for isn't where she left it, apparently. He takes the opportunity to see details he's never noticed.

Her hair is fine and seems to be a hundred shades from blond to brunette. A few wisps have escaped the tyranny of her bun and rest furtively on her neck.

Her cardigan is smooth over her shirt, which is smooth over her skin, which is just smooth.

She's very small, but perfectly in proportion.

She smells like vanilla.

When she turns to him again, he realizes his mouth is full of blood. "Mm." He signals for her to wait, and tries to spit into the sink without... spitting. He rinses his mouth again, then the sink. He has a strange urge to prove something to her, but can't tell what it is. While he's cleaning the sink, her hand comes to rest on his back. It's warmer than he would have suspected.

"Let me see."

He turns and straightens up, then remembers and stoops. But he feels ridiculous bent over that far, so instead he drops to one knee in front of her. She tilts his chin up and steps closer. His knee rests against her skirt, but when he tries to move it, he realizes it's pinned between her and the cabinet. He lets it relax against her again.

She dabs his lip with gauze. "Press your lips together for a moment." He holds the gauze tightly in his lips while she opens a small jar of petroleum jelly. "This won't taste very good, but it'll keep it from bleeding." She removes the gauze and gently and efficiently dabs him with the jelly. "When the game's over, wipe this out and let it heal naturally." She checks that the bleeding has stopped, then closes the jar and puts it back in the case. When she turns back, she tilts her head slightly with a small smile. "That's all."

"Oh. Right." She makes him feel like a giraffe picking itself up off the ground. He inspects his lip in the mirror. "Nice work. You should be a cut man." He smiles at her in the mirror.

She frowns. "I don't know what that is."

He turns to her and shakes his head. "Not important. Thanks, Angela."

"You're welcome, Jim."

As he leaves the bathroom, he hears a small, satisfied sigh behind him, and he feels like he's discovered something. It makes him smile.